Behind Stone Doors
by The Last Evenstar
Summary: Arwen grew accustomed to Aragorn's extended absences long ago, but when Gondor is threatened for the first time since the defeat of Sauron, he is forced to leave and Arwen is faced a terrible dilema, as well as a certain unexpected surprise.
1. The Solemn Procession

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Behind Stone Doors

By The Last Evenstar

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Disclaimer: If any of these characters were mine, I'd cash all but Aragorn in and buy us a beach house. Plainly, I am not at a beach house with Aragorn (darn!), and thus can be determined that I do not own any characters. If I ever get my beach house, I'll have a party for everyone who reviews. 

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A/N: This idea came to me while I was watching _RotK_ for the fourth time, but it's taken me a while to actually get started. I have high hopes for this story, and I plan to continue it if it is well received. (Read: Please review me!!!!)

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Chapter One: The Solemn Procession

Arwen laid her head against her husband's shoulder and felt the tears sting her eyes. "I wish you did not have to leave."

He tightened his arms around her and gently kissed the top of her head. "No one wishes it was so more than I do, my Queen."

She smiled bitterly and looked up at him, cold tears obscuring her vision of the handsome man beside her. "Promise me you will come back safely."

He but on a brave face. "It's practically naught but a skirmish, Arwen. Gondor's victory is certain."

"Then why are you so afraid?"

He shook his head. "I don't know why I bother to reassure you."

She laughed through her tears. "It's still more than a skirmish, though. The army from the South is formidable."

"We conquered them three years ago; we can beat them again." He sighed and pulled her close. "This regrouping is their last attempt to lay claim in Middle-Earth. They suffered greatly at Pelannor Fields, and are sending the last remnants of their army in a foolish attempt to make a stand. This defeat would mean their end and ensure a peaceful Age, but I do fear their strength, for they are said to bring with them the very last of the Mumikil – a large herd."

The elf shivered and felt her tears come again. "And there will be no miracles this time." She stared up at him in desperation. "You do promise? You won't leave alone here?"

He cradled her head against his chest. "I swear on my kingdom; on my honor, that I will return to you, lady fair." He cupped her face in his hand. "Have I failed you before?"

She tried in vain to stop the tears from pouring down her pale cheeks. "No," she whispered. Aragorn drew her closer and kissed her softly. She held on to the moment, savoring it desperately while trying not to think about the possibility that it may be the last of such times.

Through her tears, she managed to smile for her husband's sake. "You are a powerful warrior. I know you can hold your own in any battle."

He chuckled sardonically. "Now who's giving out false reassurance?"

"I mean it." She closed her eyes and fought back her distress. "It does me no good to be parted from you, though."

He looked into her glistening eyes and smiled wryly. "Meleth nin, the only reason I fight these battles is because I have you to return to." He looked down at the Evenstar pendant on his broad chest. "It pounds against me like a heartbeat, reminding me why I must continue." He kissed her softly on the lips. "For you, for us, and for our children yet to come."

A smile played at her lips in spite of the anguish she felt. "Oh, and how can you be so sure?"

"Just as I am sure that I will return."

"And how is that?"

"Because I have faith in us," he said simply. "We will make it, meltha. We have not worked so hard for nothing."

Tears were now falling freely down her face. "Ui-melon, Estel. [I will love you forever, Estel.] No matter what happens next."

For long moments they lay there, holding each other fiercely. Arwen felt on her soft cheek the warm sensation of Aragorn's tears mingling with here own.

The next morning, Aragorn stared vagrantly out at the crowds before him. He sat regally atop his war-horse, and knew he was expected to speak. Yet even as he opened his mouth, the words seemed empty and hollow; an inane promise to comfort the hopeless. "Men of Gondor! Today we ride to destroy the last of the opposition! By defeating the men of the South we ensure the peace created three years ago by the defeat of Sauron! We outnumber their armies in number and in worth! Ride now, Gondorians, and preserve the peace of Middle-earth!"

"Not with them beasts," someone murmured in the crowd. Aragorn pretended he did not hear, though in truth his heart sank to the very depths. The armies of Gondor were greater in number, that much was true, but it would be a rare miracle if they defeated all the Mumikil without suffering a heavy loss.

There were no dead armies to summon. No muster would arrive to save the men of Gondor. It was up to them, and Aragorn could already feel his will failing. "In my absence," he announced unsteadily, "Gondor will look to the rule of Queen Arwen Undomiel." He gazed at his wife, standing a few feet away, knowing full well it could be the last time he saw her lovely face.

Arwen stepped forward ceremonially, and only Aragorn could see her fear. "Ride hard and well," she said, her voice ringing throughout the silent walls like a ghostly echo. "Return safe and triumphant." She suddenly seized his hand and squeezed it tremulously, and he felt the extent of her faith and love in him.

"I will not let you down," he promised her softly, his eyes never leaving hers for a moment.

"[I love you, my King. Come safely back to me.]," she whispered, then released his hand and stepped back, her face falling into shadow once more.

With a last look at his Queen, Aragorn turned and spurned his horse into a walk. The men mounted as well; he saw Faramir embrace Éowyn before climbing onto his gray steed. As they rode, silent and solemn as a funeral train, out the gates of Minas Tirith, girls threw sprays of white flowers into their path. Aragorn watched absently as the fragile blossoms were crushed beneath the animals' sturdy hooves. His thoughts strayed to the nation he rode to fight for, and to the Queen that hung in the balance. _I will not fail you, _he promised silently. _My Evenstar, my fragile blossom, I will let nothing crush your heart. I will return._

As the last troops left the gate Arwen threw aside her position and ran to the edge of the outer wall. She gazed out on the stream of warriors, her heart breaking for those already doomed. Fading into the distance, she saw, straining her eyes, the image of Aragorn, riding at the helm. This King would not hide behind his men. He would fight to the death for every one of them, and it scared Arwen that he may have to.

Éowyn came up from behind and linked arms with the distressed Queen. "He is a powerful fighter. They both are. There is no doubt in my mind that they will ride home bearing the flag of victory."

Arwen wiped a tear from her cheek. "Good, you're still here. I was given strict instruction to keep you in my sighs until the warriors were gone."

The shieldmaiden laughed, despite herself. "Not this time. I learned my lesson about war the hard way."

The elf watched as the men blended into the horizon. "Too bad not everyone did."

Éowyn shivered, even though the day was warm. Arwen saw that she gripped her right forearm fiercely. "Those who return will know. You will see in their eyes the horrors of death."

Arwen smiled wanly at the young women. "Aragorn and Faramir have seen many battles, yet they still live to believe in hope and light."

"Pity not all of us were so lucky." Éowyn shivered again, and turned. "Let's go inside, then. Many things to be done."

Arwen let her go ahead. For a moment longer she lingered behind the stone doors of Minas Tirith, feeling already the coldness about her shoulders where Aragorn's absence had already left its mark.


	2. The Standard of Arwen

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Behind Stone Doors

By The Last Evenstar

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A/N: For all of you unfortunate enough not to have read the books, the Standard of Arwen is a bright white banner that Arwen sewed in secret for Aragorn, and in it wrought nine jewels. He bore it at the Battle of Pelannor Fields and again at Mordor. I believe they portray it in the movie as the banner Arwen carries when she approaches Aragorn in the end. Who couldn't love that scene?

Thank you to everyone that reviewed! Beach house yet to be paid for, though.

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Chapter Two: The Standard of Arwen

When he stood atop a high hill, Aragorn could still see Minas Tirith in the distance. He sighed, wishing with all his heart that men were not so seduced so easily by the thought of power. _The Ring may be gone, but its effects still linger, _he thought. _In truth it was not the corrupter, but simply the key that opened the hearts of men. And now these invaders from the south will stop at nothing to reclaim the lands promised to them by Sauron._

There is so much evil in the world, he marveled as he walked slowly down the hill. The stone walls of Minas Tirith faded over the horizon. _But for every evil that brings me despair, there is a shining star of good that drives me on. _He smiled wistfully, seeing in his head the radiant face of his beautiful wife.

"Sir!" Faramir rode up, breaking into the King's thoughts. "We'd best move on. Already it is daybreak and we have many miles to cover."

Aragorn nodded and saddled up his horse. "Men! We move out now!"

The encampment scurried into a frenzy of activity, men pulling on their armor and suiting up their horses. In a few moments they were assembled into five regiments.

Aragorn smiled at the squire who rode beside him. The young man was proudly carrying a glistening white banner, emblazoned with the White Tree of Gondor and crowned with nine shining jewels. Though it was three years old and had weathered many battles, the cloth still shone as good as new. Four of the nine jewels were radiant, but the others, though still beautiful, seemed to have lost their light. Aragorn frowned.

"Take care that you mind that standard, my boy," he said to the squire, who gulped upon being addressed by the King. "It is very dear to me."

"Yessir," the boy mumbled, and Aragorn pitied the youth, who looked only about fifteen, far too young to see battle and lose the innocence of childhood. 

The King shook his head and signaled to the riders. Men with horns played out a short order, and the army began to move.

Arwen sighed and hugged Éowyn fiercely. "Be safe."

The former shieldmaiden grinned. "I'll be fine. Honestly, you and Faramir! You're the official worriers of Middle-Earth!"

Arwen shook her head. The girl was so headstrong and carefree that it worried her sometimes. "Éowyn, you give us all the reason to! Are you sure that you need to ride to Ithilien this soon?"

Éowyn nodded. "I just came to see Faramir off. It's a court tradition. But I need to go back and take over leadership before everything turns to chaos."

"But don't you think you should wait for word of the situation before you leave? The fighting could have reached Ithilien, and I know Faramir would want you to stay far away from that."

Éowyn groaned. "Arwen! You're the ultimate mother hen! Honestly, I feel sorry for your children!"

The elf smiled grimly. "At least when they're born they'll have more sense than you in all your twenty-six years of life."

"Probably." Éowyn swung aboard her horse. "Don't WORRY, Arwen. I'm riding with an escort. I'll write you with news."

Arwen shook her head helplessly and waved the girl off. "Go on then." As the shieldmaiden spurred her horse and turned, she called out, "Goodbye, Éowyn! Be careful!"

Éowyn turned her head briefly. "I'm not going to get killed! Honestly, what makes you think I'd start now after dodging death so many times already?"

Arwen gave up. "Just leave, you!" she shouted fondly. Éowyn turned and galloped away.

With a small sigh, the Queen made her way back inside. It had seemed that the trying times were over when the Ring was destroyed, but now it seemed that the problems a ruler faced were endless. And to be honest with herself, it didn't help that she worried constantly about Aragorn.

_I know he's an excellent fighter, _she amended. _But sometimes that doesn't matter. I know that he would come out well if facing men, but the riders from the south bring with them a herd of Mumikil. Even Aragorn is in great danger from those beasts._

She lay down on her bed and cried. For a week she had been trying to rule over Gondor, but she had no strong arms to take comfort in when things went wrong. At the end of the day, she was left only with her worries and her fear. This time, there were no armies of the Dead for Aragorn to summon. There was nothing that could be destroyed in time to save him. 

__

My power is failing, she realized, looking down at her trembling white hands. _There was a time when I could watch over him in thought as clearly as if I were there. I saved his life that way more than once. _She remembered the long nights in Rivendell, before the War of the Ring, when she would find her beloved in great danger. He would tell her upon his next visit not to tire herself by helping him, but even he knew that without her, he might have been lost once or twice.

_But my magic is fading. I can no longer find him in the dark reaches of the world. Even if I could not help, it would be a comfort to know where he was._

She remembered as vividly as if it was now the day she realized her power was fading. The choice to give up her immortality was taking its toll. The Life of the Eldar was leaving her. She knew that Aragorn was in grave danger, so she poured her last traces of magic into nine shining stones. In secret she did this, for if her father had known he would have insisted that she abandon it. So day by day she wrought these gems, and with her magic they shone with the light of the Evenstar. She fixed them into a standard, onto which she embroidered the emblem of Gondor, and sent it with Halbarad to protect Aragorn.

She often wondered if she was rash in doing this. Aragorn was certainly capable of protecting himself, and in draining her magic she had put her life in danger. But Aragorn had emerged from each battle he fought in triumphant, and for each battle a gem on the standard had burned dim.

She prayed to the Valar that there was enough magic left to keep him safe now.

Aragorn stiffened. This was it. The tidings of invasion, the muster of troops, and the call to action – it had all led up to one huge confrontation. He grimly surveyed the lines of men and beasts approaching on the horizon. _On one side, Them. On another side, Us. The classic battle scene. And when it is over, the fields will be littered with bodies. There will be no more Them. There will be no more Us. There will only be Dead._

He shook the morbid thoughts from his mind, and signaled to the troops. The white banner flowed beside him, reminding the King of everyone he fought for. "Ready!"

For an innumerable amount of moments, there was the great pounding of hooves as the armies rode up. Five Mumikil were silhouetted against the dimming night sky. "Fire!"

A stream of Gondorian arrows let loose over the hordes. Aragorn calculated quickly; there must have been five thousand men. "Hold! Aim! Fire!" Despite the skill of the archers, the southern riders appeared undaunted. Aragorn swallowed and reigned in his horse. He hand-signaled to the generals. The horns of Gondor rose up to meet those of the enemy. An in an instant, the two armies converged.

Aragorn, as quick on a horse as he was on foot, managed to unseat an officer right from the start. Most officers favored a stallion for their war-horse, but Nimrodel, the King's lanky mare, was twice as light-footed and held her own as a soldier. She reared up, using her front hooves to send two men down at once. 

"Go for the Mumikil!" Aragorn's hoarse shout was lost in the sea of metal clangs. He spun sharply to parry and enemy blade and rode quickly towards the nearest beast. "Use rope to bring them down!"

He secured a length of rope to an arrow and shot it directly into its fleshy leg. The creature didn't even wince. He circled it quickly, knowing that one wrong move in the thick throng of bodies would get him squashed. 

As he pulled tighter and tighter, nearly unseating himself, the beast finally fell, its knees buckling against the force. But he had made a grave error in calculation, for the creature was about to fall directly on him.

Sweat gleamed on his brow as he tried to urge Nimrodel out, but no horse was that fast. He opened his mouth to scream as the dark bulk slammed down.

But it didn't touch him. Aragorn could have sworn the great body seemed to swerve in midair. _I should be dead just now. _Remembering that he was fighting a battle, he shrugged it off.

He looked up to see that Faramir and a host of Ithilien rangers had managed to bring down another one. His heart fell, though, when he saw six more approaching from the south.

"Gah!" A nearby lance slammed into Aragorn's shield. He winced from the force of it, then turned and drove his sword neatly into the attacker. Upon spinning his mare about, he saw the squire who had born Arwen's standard go down. He rushed over, stopping only to kill tow more men. As he scooped up the standard, bearing it proudly, he said a silent prayer for the boy.

It was only then that he noticed something strange.

Another gem in the cloth had gone dim.


	3. Curse of the Foolish Rohirrm

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Behind Stone Doors

By The Last Evenstar

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A/N: This is kind of a . . . bridge chapter. More fluff in the next one, I promise!

And since I've gotten such nice reviews . . .

Blackbird10 - You are so nice! My mother is in despair with me. I tricked her into taking me the third time. And the fourth time was for Latin Club (don't ask).

Cerridwen-Evereven - Thank you for being my most timely reviewer. I wonder as well. 

sayinjinj7 - Thank you! Star Wars? Seen it a looooong time ago. Maybe it was in my subconscious.

Queen Arwen - Now really! I would nevereverever kill my beloved Aragorn! Surely you know that? I'm glad you like it, anyway.

Gionareth - Thanks. Who knows? Not me.

Kath - Thanks. Aragorn got mad at me for putting that in. He thinks it makes him seem un-manly.

prettiest in pink - I'm so glad you think the dialogue is believable. I'm sure it pains you to put college ahead of Tolkien.

The Converted - I think they're cool too. I have no idea about the rhinos. Maybe deformed cousins?

b-witched83uk - Thank you for your kind words (I'm running out of ways to say 'thanks' here . . . ). Unfortunately, reading about Aragorn getting all sweaty and fighting doesn't come close to seeing it on the big screen. Oh, well.

Natters - Oh, to hell with it - THANKS! That's all I seem to be able to say to anyone.

Daisy - Thanks. It warms my heart that SOMEONE thinks I'm talented.

And that's all, folks!

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Chapter Three: Curse of the Foolish Rohirrm

The manservant found Arwen in the King's study. She was not, he noted, going through ledgers and supply lists as consumed most of her duty nowadays, but rather she was leafing through an assortment of calendars and almanacs, biting her lip nervously.

"My Lady?"

The harried Queen looked up. "Good evening. Do you bring a message?" 

He nodded, and her eyes lit up. "Here you are, my Lady." He handed her a stack of papers. "These came through an escort that passed by the King's company four days ago."

"Oh, thank you!" She sorted through the papers. There was a long letter from Aragorn, as well as an official document detailing their progress and a sealed letter addressed to Éowyn. She set it aside and ripped open her husband's letter eagerly.

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My dearest Arwen,

By the time you receive this, we will have ridden into battle. We are no more than three days away from the first of the invaders. Don't waste your time worrying – whatever happens will have happened by now. As far as our scouts have reported, I think that to hope for victory in this first battle would not be foolish. We outnumber them in terms of men, and there seem to be no more Mumakil than we were able to defeat at Pelannor.

Everything that followed was written in Elvish, and made Arwen blush uncontrollably. She read it several times before turning to the other two documents. 

She started to call someone in hopes to forward Faramir's letter, but stopped when she saw that he had written _Urgent! _On the outside. She bit her lip. She knew not to read other people's mail, but what if it was something that couldn't afford to be put off?

With a nervous feeling, she opened the letter.

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Beloved Éowyn,

I know you had planned to ride for Ithilien come next week, but, by all means, DO NOT GO. A force of southerners is moving swiftly past, and I fear the first battle may be much too close to home. As it is, we've ordered an evacuation, so you should expect them at Minas Tirith any day now. I know you all too well, Éowyn, and you MUST stay in Minas Tirith, no matter how much you would like to come and fight. Please do this . . .

Arwen hastily rolled up the letter. The rest could not be for her eyes. Moaning with despair, she thought hard. Éowyn and her escort had left two days ago. By now, they would be almost into the fray of the battle.

_Foolish girl!, _Arwen thought, furious with Éowyn and with herself. _I told her she would get herself killed!_

Rising hastily, Arwen suddenly felt dizzy. Her stomach lurched, and she had to sit back down for a few moments before the nausea passed.

_What was that? _She wondered, trotting quickly down the hall. She tried to think what could be done. She couldn't let Éowyn and her companions reach Ithilien, especially with no warning, but what could be done? All the able-bodied riders had gone out with the troops. Anyone left here could certainly not catch up to a two-day head start, even if they rode nonstop. She felt sure Éowyn and her escort would rest nights, but what if they were too far ahead already? She would need a skilled rider, and even the garrison at Osgiliath could spare none of its men.

She closed her eyes in frustration. _I'm not condemning Éowyn to death! _She smiled grimly. _For one thing, Faramir would kill me. _Her eyes began no fill with unhappy tears. _If only the Elves had not left. An Elven rider could overtake them in a day._

Suddenly she stopped dead. _I couldn't. They need me here._

A picture filled her mind of Éowyn, her closest friend in the world of Men, caught off-guard by an army of soldiers and beasts. _Could I? _Unwittingly, she clutched her stomach. _It would not be safe._

She grit her teeth. _Aragorn will NOT be happy with me._

Aragorn grimaced as he surveyed the situation. His army had taken down six of the gargantuan oliphaunts, but the remaining four were coming on strong. So many of his men had been crushed by the beasts, but they had also taken out quite a few of their own in their hapless strides.

A stinging cut raked his chest, and sweat gleamed on his brow from the harsh sun of Southern Gondor. His mail armor had been cut on one leg by a vicious double axe, and the appendage was bleeding heavily. He had been thrown from Nimrodel as they swerved to evade one of the Mumakil and now ran about, striking as many foes as he could.

There was the unmistakable clash of metal on metal as he turned to parry an enemy's attack. The man was tall and muscular, his red Southern skin far more able to withstand the heat and hurt. Their blades met, broadsword matching glaive. Aragorn thrust Anduril again and again, but the man was a far better match than Aragorn had expected. On his armor, the King noted, was an unusual emblem, most likely signifying a high rank or position.

The Southerner cursed at him, trying to break his concentration. In one final upheaval Aragorn knocked the thinner weapon aside and drove his sword straight and true into the man's shoulder. As the great sword cut further, Aragorn pressing his strength to the very last, the man went down with a roar of indignation. The King panted and straightened.

He noted that the surrounding men began to lose their fervor at the sight of their dead leader. Again and again he and his men struck out, until finally the army began to retreat, not without the loss of three more Mumakil. The Gondorians shot at the last one in vain as it ambled away, the sharp arrows barely sticking the beast's hide.

"On!" Aragorn shouted to his men. "Finish them off!"

As he stumbled forward, he saw Arwen's banner. It clung about his shoes, still shining brightly despite the dirt and filth of a battlefield. He stopped for a moment and buried his face in it, taking in the sweet, unfading smell of his wife. In that instant his heart yearned and tugged, wanting only to hold her in his arms again.

He sighed and looked up, only to see the army falling back towards Ithilien, where in the distance three more Mumakil stood waiting. He remembered his promise to Arwen and picked up his sword.

"My Lady –"

"You'll be fine in charge." Arwen spoke grimly as she saddled up her horse. "The King and I have faith in you."

"My Lady, you cannot simply leave in the midst of a war! The King would not allow you to compromise your safety like that!" Aragorn's chief advisor looked up at her, pleading. "He would have my head for letting you do such a thing!"

"First of all, the King does not command me, and so you have no right to do so," Arwen informed him. He gulped. "And secondly, I MUST reach the escort before they enter Ithilien and are all killed. I just pray I am not too late."

"But why YOU, Lady?"

She grinned, though not a trace of happiness shone in her eye. "I was raised in the saddle, my Lord. I could ride bareback two thousand years before you were born."

Ignoring his cries of dismay, she swung up and mounted. Immediately she felt another wave of nausea. _I hope this passes, _she thought, biting her lip. _I hope to the Valar it's just nerves._

As she galloped through the city, she felt the silence of war everywhere. There was no house that did not have a father, a brother, an uncle or a cousin in Gondor's army. She wondered if any of them were missed half as much as Aragorn, and pitied them if it was so.

With a last look at Minas Tirith, she spurred her horse and rode out from behind stone doors.


	4. Remember When

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Behind Stone Doors

By The Last Evenstar

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A/N: This chapter was inspired by Alan Jackson's song "Remember When", which is totally the sappiest thing ever, and of course I love it.

A few of the reviewers have totally guessed what my brilliant foreshadowing is leading to! Now don't run to the reviews and look, because I'm not naming names, but kudos to all of you! Well, actually . . . I think my subtlety needs a little work . . .

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Chapter Four: Remember When

_Arwen sat on the veranda, her linen dress blowing softly in the breeze. Her long dark hair lashed out in whips of silk, and she silently counted to ten. "Almost."_

The tall man behind her grinned. "When can I ever move stealthily enough to fool an elf?"

Squealing with delight, Arwen jumped up and turned to meet him in a happy embrace. She kissed him with all the pain of his leaving and the joy of his return.

Aragorn grinned and wrapped her tightly in his arms. "So I guess I don't have to ask whether or not you missed me."

"Was there any doubt in your mind?" Arwen smiled coyly and traced his jaw line with her finger. "I see. It's all part of your charm, ranger." She found his lips and gently pulled them toward hers; a sweet, savory kiss in the perfect romantic setting.

They sat on the veranda overlooking Rivendell, arms entwined, and Arwen felt a tear come to her eye. Aragorn looked with concern into her soft, pretty face and brushed it away.

"What's wrong, meltha?"

She sighed and eased herself back. Her head fit perfectly into his sculpted chest. "It's nothing. Don't trouble yourself."

His brow wrinkled. "It is not nothing. Tell me why you are unhappy and I will journey to the ends of the earth to bring the smile back to your face."

She grinned and stifled a giggle. "You're too much, Estel. I was just thinking."

He sighed, and saw where she looked. In a meadow far below, three small children ran and played while their parents looked on. Arwen gazed at it with such longing that it broke his heart that he couldn't give it to her, not just yet. "Someday, meleth nin. I promise."

She looked up at him with a wan smile. "I know. I just wish it would come sooner rather than later. I feel like I only see you on rare occasions, and every time you ride out and risk your life while I sit at home and pray for you to return. It will be better than this someday, won't it?"

He faced her seriously. "Of course it will. I love you, Undómiel. We'll have everything one day."

She felt her heart turn over. "I don't need everything, Estel. I just need you." 

He drew her close. "Then you're in luck, my lady, because I am yours for the taking."

She kissed him softly. "Then I am blessed indeed." 

Tears streamed down Arwen's face as she rode at a swift gallop into the night. The horse seemed to fly rather than run, and Arwen tried to shake her thoughts in the swift night wind. _He said it would be different. But here I am again, alone in the night and wishing with all my heart for him. All I could give was my hope, my blessing. And while I chase errant shieldmaidens, he fights for everything and everyone, while the future hangs in the balance._

Her stomach lurched, and she started to fight back her dizziness. _I shouldn't be doing this, _she thought, all the while urging her horse to breakneck speed. _It's not my job to protect Éowyn. My first priority should be to protect myself. _She glanced down at her stomach and shivered, praying that Éowyn and her company were safe and near. _Because if I'm not mistaken, I'm protecting two of us now._

"So," said Faramir, watching the lines of approaching men and beats. They arrived to do battle once more with Gondor's tired army. "Think you're luck's run out yet?"

Aragorn grinned at his friend. "Luck? Since when did I have that?"

The Prince of Ithilien laughed. "You, who fell over a cliff and managed to survive? Who faced down ten thousand Orcs at Helms Deep and lived to tell the tale? No, good King, you've no manner of luck at all."

Aragorn snorted. "Nervous, are we?"

Faramir grinned and unsheathed his sword. "Shaking in my boots."

Aragorn watched the army come closer and closer. "Up!" he called. "Aim!"

Seven thousand Gondorian arrows stood poised and ready. They waited for his command.

It was not so long ago that this sort of responsibility would have terrified him. He had never dreamed of being a king; of having the fate of thousands of lives on his hands. He saw the white banner beside him, flapping in the wind, and remembered where he got his strength.

_"Why do you believe in me?" he asked her. "What have I ever done to prove myself? Skill with a sword will not take me to Mordor. What about strength of will and heart? What is their testament?"_

Arwen placed a soft finger over his lips. "Prove yourself?" she asked, a wry smile on her lips. "You saved Frodo's life. You led him to Rivendell. What more proof would you like? Your quest for Gollum? The fighting you have done for Gondor and Rohan? Why do you worry, Estel? You know what you can do. You will make it."

He stretched out and sighed. "Brave words for a brave soldier." He held her tightly in his arms. "I know my duty. The Ring must be destroyed, or we will all die trying."

She reached up and kissed him fiercely. "Don't say that! My father knows you will live. He would not let you go if that was not what he has foreseen."

He sighed and stroked her hair. "Even the foresight of Elves can be misleading. I feel helpless with the lives of others in my hands."

She took his hand and caressed it softly. "They are strong hands. You will guide them far using these."

"And if I fail?"

"You won't." She said it simply; a basic fact to which there could be no dispute. "You may succeed, and come home worn and tried. Or you may succeed and go on to claim the throne of Gondor and bring peace to all the land. And either way, I will be here waiting."

"Oh, meltha!" His voice was ragged and desperate. "There is no hope for that."

She smiled so genuinely and brightly that it seemed to calm his heart. "You are the hope, Estel. You gave me light where there was only darkness. And you will do the same for all of Middle-Earth."

He took her in his arms and kissed her, drawing out her hope and strength and, most of all, her faith in him.

"Fire!"

Arwen had been riding swiftly for a day. In the early hours of the morning, she began to hear the sounds of battle. Ithilien was only a few leagues away, and there was no trace of Éowyn or her escort. She closed her eyes and tried to think clearly. It was a mistake. In a moment, she succumbed to the nausea, and everything went black. 

Well? Ideas? Suggestions? REVIEWS?


	5. Refuge

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Behind Stone Doors

By The Last Evenstar

****

A/N: Augh! Do you ever have that feeling like you know exactly what you WANT to happen in a story but you can't get down everything in your head until all this other stuff happens?

Anyway, this will probably be the only thing I can post until next weekend. I'm sorry, but I've got midterms to take, other stuff the I SHOULD be doing right now, and an audition to prepare for. It's going to be a hectic week, and I'll be lucky if I get two hours of sleep, let alone time to write. BUT I'M NOT GIVING UP ON THIS STORY! It will probably have a few more chapters. _(sigh)_ It's past its expiration date and is starting to stink, but I will get around to finishing it.

Big hugs to everyone who reviewed! 

****

Chapter Five: Refuge

Arwen awoke to the frantic, high-pitched whinnying of her horse. She sat up dizzily, trying to remember what had happened. She had been riding toward Ithilien, and making good time . . . 

_Fool! _she cursed herself, remembering her nauseous tumble. _I should have been more careful. I should have known . . . _

The squeals of her mare brought her attention to a party of riders, approaching in the distance. She gasped and scrambled onto the horse's back. Even her sharp Elven eyes could not make out whether they were friend or foe.

She eyed with disdain the one quiver of arrows and two daggers she had brought. It would not be enough to fend off any manner of enemy. _I'm such a fool! _she thought. _I'm not safe behind the stone doors of Minas Tirith anymore. I'm a sole rider practically unarmed in dangerous territory. _Really, she had heard that pregnant women sometimes didn't think clearly, but this was beyond a joke!

She notched an arrow and strained her eyes to see into the distance. As the riders approached, it became clear that Arwen would NOT want to tangle with them. She turned and spurred her horse on, racing for her life.

She rode swiftly toward a rocky enclosure, hoping she could lose them. The stench of old battle filled her nose; the acrid scent of decaying bodies. She stiffened. Gondor had fought here not to long ago. 

As she raced, swift as the wind, past the battleground, a shimmer of white caught her eye. She turned her head and instinctively slowed her horse. Upon further inspection she gasped.

Caught on a sharp edge and blowing softly in the breeze, unnoticed in all its glory, was the standard she had sewn so long ago.

_Another day, another life-threatening situation, _thought Aragorn. _It's become so routine._

He sighed dryly as he drove Anduril through yet another foe. This was hardly the era of peace he had always imagined his reign as.

"My Lord!" Beregond, once captain of the Tower Guard and now his chief general, rode up on his brown stallion. "We've taken down three of the Mumakil. They're down to their last four."

Aragorn grinned as he rode head-on to face an enemy officer and knocked him careening off his horse. "Good!" he shouted. "Have the men form squadrons. Attack systematically!"

He unleashed his bow and began to shoot down the riders atop the great beasts. The muscles in his arms bulged as he drew back the bowstring again and again. The velocity needed to reach that far was enough to tire any man. Sure enough, his arms grew weaker and weaker until he could shoot no more, and, turning with a great cry, he charged right at the beast. He drove his sword again and again into its ankles, spinning and rearing so as not to get trampled.

Finally, the Oliphaunt fell. He galloped quickly out of the way as the great creature heaved and floundered. He wiped the sweat from his eyes and looked up. The squadrons of men had managed to unseat two more of the beasts, leaving only one. He decided to let the others handle it and spurred Nimrodel into a group of men, raising his sword and letting it crash down upon the head of an enemy.

The last of the Mumakil was killed not long after. The men of Gondor rode through the Southern legions like a great wave, obliterating all in their path. Within an hour, the battle was won.

Aragorn paused and stopped his horse amidst the rowdy cheers of his men. Something was not right about this. He swiftly calculated the dead on the battlefield, a number that feel substantially short of the army his scouts had reported.

_This doesn't make any sense! _he thought in frustration. _This was all the Mumakil they had left. Why send them all to battle and not the extent of your men? They must have known they would be outnumbered . . ._

Something registered in his brain from three years hence. A diversion; a war-winning tactic that had drawn the Eye of Sauron away from the true threat and onto that which appeared the more powerful.

_The Mumakil were their Last Attempt, _he realized with a start. _But they've still got some hobbits up their sleeve!_

Arwen dismounted and ran over to the banner. She picked it up and brushed it softly. The cloth into which she had poured her magic and her love was now torn and dirty. The gems embedded in it no longer shone.

She clutched it to her chest and cried softly. Tears stained the shimmering cloth as she tried to console herself. _He just left it here. It doesn't mean anything's happened to him!_

She folded it carefully and tucked it into her saddlebag. In the distance the group of riders were coming on faster; stronger. She gulped back her tears and swung up onto her mare. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a small cave – the perfect hiding spot until they had passed. She galloped quickly over and dismounted again.

She peered through the small opening. It could hide a person, but not a horse. She glanced around in despair. The enemy riders were close now – she felt sure they had spotted her.

Making a quick decision, she pushed her horse into the cave ahead of her. They may be spotted this way, but she was not going to leave her faithful mare behind.

To her surprise, she had no sooner taken a step inside the cave when her feet fell out from under her. The horse, called Elentari, cried sharply as she fell also. 

Arwen stood up, her body a bit bruised. The cave dropped sharply into a long tunnel, deceptively hidden by the low roof.

She led Elentari carefully down the tunnel, wondering if it surfaced nearby. But it only branched off and went steeper and steeper into the earth.

Ahead, she saw a light. Wary, she drew her dagger and crept along slowly.

"Stop!" A figure holding a torch approached her from the end of the tunnel. "Put your weapon down!"

Arwen nearly cried in relief. "ÉOWYN?"

The girl dropped her sword and held up the light. "Arwen?" She stood there, her mouth open, as the elf raced down the tunnel towards her. "Aragorn is going to be LIVID."

Arwen laughed and swept the shieldmaiden into an embrace. "You stupid girl! Is that all you can say? I rode out to find you! To warn you not to go to Ithilien." She smiled at the girl's puzzled look. "A letter from Faramir arrived, telling you to stay at Minas Tirith by all means."

Éowyn's mouth dropped open. "You READ it?" She cringed. "Was it one of his mad poems?" 

"No," Arwen laughed, "but I only read the first paragraph." She suddenly sobered up. "Do you know what's happening? Where the Gondorians are?" She shuddered. "There seem to be southerners everywhere, but –"

Éowyn rolled her eyes. "Aragorn's all right. We saw him riding through here only a day ago."

Arwen felt her knees go weak with relief. "Thank the Valar. How did you manage to find this place?" She looked around. Éowyn and her few companions had set up a hospitable little camp.

"Same way as you. We were running, one of the horses fell –" She bit her lip. "But that's not important. What's important is that there's an army of thousands waiting for our men to draw back to Ithilien. It's a trap."

Arwen gasped. Her thoughts moved to the banner so carefully tucked in her saddlebag. "They'll be slaughtered!" 

Éowyn nodded grimly. "There's another force waiting to ride into Minas Tirith as soon as all the defenses are obliterated."

Arwen stared. "How do you know?"

Éowyn fingered her bloodstained sword. "I have my ways."

Arwen sank to the floor, her legs giving out entirely. Unwillingly, she clutched her stomach and began to cry.

"Arwen –" The normally stately elf's behavior puzzled Éowyn. "What's wrong?"

Arwen sniffled. "I just feel so helpless. I love him so much, I would do anything to save him – but I can't." Tears ran down her cheeks. "I've got our baby to protect."

The shieldmaiden gasped. "A baby? You're – you're with child?"

Arwen nodded and smiled through her tears. "I can't protect them both. I would give my life for Aragorn in an instant, but I could never sacrifice our child."

Éowyn's young face was set and lined. "You won't have to." As her chin trembled, Arwen had to remind herself that the girl was only twenty-six. "There has to be a way. I tried sending someone to warn our men, but we found him a few hours later with a stick rammed through his heart. It's too dangerous out there."

Arwen sighed. "In some ways this is harder than defeating Sauron. With him, a small act of one little hobbit could end the whole thing. But now, the enemy's destruction will take so much."

Éowyn nodded. "We can't just sit here, though. I'm not leaving Faramir to be slaughtered."

Arwen shook her head. "They need reinforcement." The picture of Aragorn, alone and surrounded by enemy swords, pierced at her heart. "What about Rohan?"

"Rohan?" Éowyn thought. "Aragorn told Eomer they didn't need any help. Besides, they're days and days away."

Arwen trembled. "We need to do something!"

"I know!" Éowyn sounded frustrated. "But we can't get a message to Aragorn without being killed."

Arwen rubbed her hands. They were cold and clammy. She felt the banner inside her saddlebag. Was there still magic? Could she manage . . . Probably not.

But she could die trying.


	6. The Last of the Elves

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Behind Stone Doors

By The Last Evenstar

****

A/N: Okay, okay, so I know I said I had stuff to do. And that's true. But it's Martin Luther King Jr. Day and we have no classes, so instead of studying for my midterms or preparing my audition like a good little elf, I decided to update. As you can see, I love to procrastinate. And this really IS it until next Friday. Sorry.

To all of my wonderful reviewers: You are so sweet, and it makes my day to see a review in my Inbox. Especially everyone who wished me good luck on my very hectic week. I love you all!

****

Chapter Six: The Last of the Elves

Arwen sat numbly for an hour or more, the burden of her knowledge bearing upon her heart like a leaden weight. She remembered her last great sacrifice. _"Do I not also have your love?" _he had asked. But in the end she had left him. And she did not regret it.

But this time she would.

_I did not forsake the immortality of my kin to sit here while the man I love rides toward death, _she thought. _But saving him would be not only to risk my own life, but the life of the child I carry. The life of my son._

She remembered that day in the forest, when the little boy with the brown curls had first stolen her heart. Since then he had appeared in her dreams more than once, waiting. Waiting to be born.

_He might still make it out alive, _she realized. _The army could be crushed, but he is a mighty warrior._

She shook her head. As Queen of Gondor, she was not going to let the country be defeated. She would not sacrifice the life and the people she had grown to love.

"Arwen?" Éowyn's voice interrupted her thoughts. "We have to do something. Time is running out."

Arwen nodded. "I have thought and thought, and am not any closer to an answer." She thought of the banner, tucked inside her saddlebag. Of the power she had thought drained long ago. _To call upon it once more would be foolhardy. A certain death. _She remembered the first rule of magic. _Never attempt more than you feel able._ She had broken it once, in making the banner. And as a result, she had almost died.

Éowyn's round face was full of despair, and inside its grave expression Arwen could see a hopeless little girl. She sighed as she realized that Éowyn, too, had the life of her husband at stake.

_If I succeed, I could save so many more than just Aragorn, _she realized. _I would save Éowyn, and old Ioreth, who grieves that her son has gone to war. _She remembered Bergil, the little boy who admired his father so much. The young woman in Minas Tirith who had cried and cried as the army rode out. _I could save all them as well._

She smiled bravely and looked up at Éowyn. "I have one now."

Aragorn bit his lip and toyed with the dagger in his hands. He had ordered the men to camp east of Ithilien for a night, with a heavy guard. He sat by the fire, trying to calculate what exactly the enemy could be planning.

"My Lord?" Faramir came and sat down beside him. "What troubles you on the night of victory?"

The King sighed. "A victory, but I fear an insubstantial one."

The Prince of Ithilien was taken aback. "Insubstantial? We wiped out their entire army!"

"Their army of beasts, yes. But what about their army of men?"

"Men?" Faramir paused to ponder the question. He was no fool; he knew as well as Aragorn that their was a legion of men who has escaped them. "You think they pose a threat?"

Aragorn nodded. "More than a threat. I'm afraid that today's battle was naught but a diversion."

Now Faramir was shocked. "A diversion? But, the Mumakil –"

"Were never the real threat," Aragorn cut in. "You remember as well as I how we rode to the Black Gates of Mordor with all our armies, so as to draw the Eye of Sauron away from Frodo and Sam."

Faramir grimaced. "Actually, I can't say I do –"

Aragorn nodded, remembering. "You were unconscious. Well, that's what we did. And it worked."

Faramir gulped. "This cannot be good, then."

The King nodded. "We shall ride to Ithilien come morning. From there we will work out our strategy."

"That will work." Faramir lay back. "I have ordered it evacuated due to the nearby battles. It should be empty for us."

"Arwen –" Éowyn looked skeptical. "Are you sure you can do this?"

Arwen nodded, hating to lie. "Who's the official worrier now?" she teased.

The shieldmaiden rolled her eyes. "Last time someone said that, we hardly escaped with our lives." She eyes the Queen suspiciously. "You're sure this isn't dangerous? If anything happens to you, Aragorn will have my head."

Arwen gulped. "Just tell him I told you it was fine."

"What?"

"Nothing." Arwen hastily sat down, the white banner in her hands. "All right."

Éowyn still looked unsure. "Are you positive this is necessary? They'll know better than to ride into Ithilien with their guard down, anyway. Maybe we just need to wait it out."

Arwen shook her head. "I didn't come this far just to lose him." With that, she took a deep breath and collapsed on the floor.

Éowyn gulped. _She did say that was going to happen._

Arwen, deep in meditation, drew on the magic of the banner. Its intended use had worn away, but somewhere in there her magic remained. That was the second rule.

Magic never dies.

She tried to call on it, to use it to find Aragorn. She could remember when such a task had been effortless. Now, all she got was black oblivion.

Estel!_ she cried, roaming the darkness. It was no use. She probed the very reaches of the magic, but even as she tried it flickered and grew dim._

Oh, Valar! _she prayed. _Let it work. Let me save him.

_In her mind she saw Aragorn, her beloved, the light of her life. At once the picture faded, and once again she cried in despair._

This time she took no chances. Breaking every rule her father had ever taught her, she let go of everything and threw herself wholly into the magic. She knew if she succeeded, there would be no getting out. I do it for him, _she reminded herself, feeling the tears soak her cheeks. _My love. My hope. My Estel.

_She found him asleep, just east of Ithilien. He slept uneasily, his mind full of worry. She eased herself into his mind, into his dreams._

"Arwen?" He sat up, unsure.

She felt tears spring out of her eyes and wrapped him tightly in an embrace. "It's me, melon nin. I'm here."

He smiled joyfully and kissed her with longing. "How is it that you can do this? I thought your magic was lost with your immortality."

She shook her head, unsure of how much longer she would be able to last. "It doesn't matter. Estel, you and your company are riding into a trap."

He nodded, his fears confirmed. "What do you know? HOW do you know this?"

"Do not ask me. But an army of thousands is waiting for you in Ithilien. They have taken control."

He gasped. "What? So many?"

"The refugees never arrived at Minas Tirith. Perhaps they have been taken captive." She bit her lip. "Éowyn saw it, not I."

"Éowyn?"

She smiled sadly at his puzzlement. "She'll tell you." She could feel her strength fading. She reached out suddenly and kissed him; long, hard, and passionate. Tears mingled in her eyes. "I love you, Estel. Be safe."

He held on to her. "What's wrong? What's happening?"

She could feel herself pulling away. "I love you, ui-meltha [forever my beloved]."

"Arwen!" It was no use. She was gone.

She lay crying, shrouded in darkness. More than anything she wanted to be safe behind the stone doors of Minas Tirith once more, in his arms then and forever.

With all her strength she tried to fall back into her body. In a corner of her mind she could see Éowyn, shaking her and crying.

She thought of the child, the brown-curled little boy who was to have been her pride and joy, her own beloved son. Forgive me, my child.

_Suddenly she was walking amidst the tree, and behind her a handsome young man was crying "Tinúviel! Tinúviel!"_

Then she way lying on the top of Cerin Amroth in the land of Lorien, and the same handsome man offered her a ring with green stones.

She was again in Rivendell, this time offering the man her own jewels – the Evenstar pendant.

And suddenly she was standing, facing the whole of Gondor and pledging to love him forever and ever.

And then everything went black.

****

A/N: Don't you just love a cliffhanger? 


	7. The Grace of Luthien

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Behind Stone Doors

By The Last Evenstar

****

A/N: I'M SORRY! I know just how torturous it is when people don't update on their regular schedule and I apologize profusely. But like I said before, it was not a relaxing week, what with midterms and play auditions. Good news, though – I won the role of Essie in _You Can't Take it With You_, which is a terrifically funny play. Actually, that might be bad news, because it means less stories and less frequent updates, due to the grueling rehearsal schedule. Plus, I'll be devoting even more time to the _PotC _fic I'm co-writing with Anamaria Elentari (if you like _Pirates of the Caribbean_ and outrageous humor, the link is in my profile).

So it seems that not everyone loves a cliffhanger. Hmmmm. Too bad; they're my sole purpose in life. So in an effort to appease everyone:

Blackbird10 - Ending? What ending? That was no ending! Because if it were, Aragorn would be sad, then I would be sad because Aragorn was sad, and then the world would fall apart!

Meleth - I would NEVER let Arwen die. Aragorn would be MUCH to upset.

AmberRose - I don't think Eldarion will be born in the vicinity of this story, so that'a not really an issue. I hate it too when people mess up Aragorn's and Arwen's children.

Natters - Eek! is right. Don't worry, a happy ending is on the way.

sayinjinj7 - I hope not. I just thought it was a nice detail.

Anamaria Elentari - It's not like you don't have the chance to ask me EVERY DAY what happens AFTER the cliffhanger.

ArwenSolo - Well, I wouldn't want you to go insane . . . you might end up like me . . .

b-witched83uk - Ah, swamped with stuff to do? Boy, do I know the feeling. My cliffhanger is very offended by your comments. But it thanks you for your support. (I'm kidding - just in case)

Dictionary - I'm sorry! I didn't mean to be mean! Here, another chapter!

prettiest in pink - Hell yeah! If Eowyn can't kick ass, who can?

The Converted - *cowers under must kill Neo face* Never, never, would I make an unhappy ending! Then I would be sad! And I'd prefer to be happy! 

magsluvsaragorn - So glad you like it.

Cerridwen-Evereven - You don't REALLY love a cliffhanger, do you? 

steph-h - Consider it dead.

Raquel - Yay! Delicious! That's a very nice word that you don't hear every day! *basks* 

McKenna - Oh, I would never kill Arwen. She's my hero. Sometimes I AM her.

Lady Arwen - Kill Aragorn? Never! Does everyone here think I'm a homicidal maniac?

tars - Thank you! I try my best.

Alioth - Hmmm. You seems a bit schizophrenic. Shall I call you Smeagol? And in answer to your question, NO.

mata - Sorry. Here you are.

Queen Arwen Undomiel - I adore people who adore this story!

Queen Arwen - Oh, I suspect the reunion will be something phenomenal. Maybe a whole chapter long . . .

And on that happy note . . .

****

Chapter Seven: The Grace of Luthien

Faramir spoke grimly. "Are you sure?"

Aragorn nodded. "Positive." He sighed wistfully. "I hope she's all right."

"Why shouldn't she be? She's safe behind the stone doors of Minas Tirith. With Éowyn."

The King looked away guiltily. His good judgement had told him not to tell Faramir anything of his wife until the battle was fought. "Yes. Yes, you're right. I just don't want her to wear out her strength." 

Faramir shook his head. "She'll be fine! We need to worry about the real problem!"

Aragorn opened his mouth to protest that Arwen, his Queen, was more important than anything else in the world, but then he remembered the army lying in wait for them. He groaned in frustration. "I don't see what we can do. We just DON'T have the forces to counter them. If only we could get word to Rohan, or to Arnor –"

The Prince of Ithilien grimaced. "Eomer offered us five thousand men. Men which we're now in desperate need of."

Aragorn sighed. "It's too late. No one could have predicted that the Southerners would rise up like this." He lay his head in his hands. "It seems so hopeless."

"This from the man that led us to the gates of Mordor? Aragorn, I've never known you to give up at anything. Not even ninepins."

The King grinned in spite of himself. "You're right, Faramir. And this isn't the end of the world. Just a particularly brutal situation that needs to be dealt with." He thought back on everything he was trying to protect; how far he had come since the beginning. The life he sought to return to was waiting for him in Minas Tirith. "Come Mordor or high water, I WILL figure this out."

_Arwen knew she had passed beyond the realm of the Living. What was wrong was that she could not pull out and drift into the realm of the Dead. She had fought with all her strength, but there was none left. She could not regain her living consciousness, nor could she rest._

She was trapped.

Oh, Valar!_ she prayed. _Guide me back. Let me return!

_At once a warm, sweet scent filled her nose. She felt the soft tingling of her body, and yet she felt so erethreal that there was no way she could yet be real. She tried to open her eyes, and there was light. The soft music of an Elven minstrel filled her ears._

She tried, confused, to assess the situation. Where am I?

_At once she saw a woman, coming forth with her arms raised in a comforting gesture of friendship, bathed in the silver like of surrealism. With a start Arwen found herself facing - what? A clone? A doppelganger? An image of HER?_

As the figure drew closer Arwen realized that they were not exactly identical. The woman's hair was lighter than hers, and her face was slightly more angular. The tip of her ears came to a finer point, and she held herself with the state of regality that Arwen had all but lost since joining the world of Men. But other than that, they could have been twins.

Arwen gaped. "L-luthien?"

The elf's lips curled into a fine smile that Arwen recognized from the looking glass. "It is I."

She dropped to her knees. "Where am I? What is happening? Am I dead, then?"

The stately woman shook her head. "You attempted a magic far beyond your drained power. It was rash and foolish and irresponsible, and now I must waste my time saving you."

Arwen's head dropped. Luthien laughed.

"And I heartily approve." Arwen looked up, startled. "Dear child, I have eternity to waste. You did a wonderful thing. I wonder even if I myself would be brave enough."

Arwen trembled, trying to speak. "You will help me? I will see him again?" she whispered, transfixed.

Luthien laughed. "You and I, Arwen, daughter of Elrond! You and I both know."

"Know?"

Luthien smiled wistfully. "We have both loved a mortal man. We have both felt things so far beyond the emotions that our kind are taught to convey." She smiled, her eyes far off in the distance. "Before I knew Beren I knew nothing. Not love, not hurt, not anything. Elves are taught to hide their emotions, and as a result they are distant and polite. Human open up a whole other world of love and passion."

Arwen nodded fervently. "For three thousand years I roamed the earth with no one, and thought nothing of it. Then I met Aragorn, and never was he not in my mind. It was exciting and it was forbidden, but the real reason I stayed with him was because I knew he loved me in a way no one else ever could."

"And you had him, in the end." Luthien's eyes darkened. "I was not so lucky."

Arwen touched her hand. "I'm sorry."

The Elf shook her head. "It wasn't your fault. And now we are together in death." She sighed. "But in life, we never got that chance. I never knew how it was to marry and raise a family." She glanced at Arwen's stomach. "And if I couldn't, I intend to make sure that someone does."

Arwen felt herself brimming over with joy. "Do you mean that? I can – I can live despite what I did? My son will live?"

Luthien grinned. "He will grow and prosper, and one day be King."

In an instant, all the pieces of Arwen's life flew back together. "Oh, thank you!"

Her look-alike smiled gravely. "He is in a dire situation, this man of yours, but do not be too hasty to protect him. The banner you made saved him once, twice, and again, but at the end of the day you must trust in him."

Arwen bit her lip. "I do! He's the best warrior in all of Middle-Earth! I just want him to come home," she said, near tears.

Luthien shook her head. "Go on, then. Return to the King."

And with a burst of magic, Arwen opened her eyes.

"My Lord!" Beregond came thundering up, his great black stallion rearing. "There is a force of then men arriving from the East. Five thousand strong!"

Aragorn looked at Faramir, aghast. "Five thousand? Where could they get such a force?" He looked up at Beregond. "Are you sure of their identity?"

The general nodded uncertainly. "Only one of our riders returned, and died of arrow wounds shortly after he relayed the message. They're coming on strong. I suggest you ready the men now."

Aragorn nodded, a pit of hopelessness growing in his heart. How could they combat such an army? Where were all these men coming from?

With a sigh he turned toward the encampment and shouted an order. He drew Anduril, looking grim. Hopeless or not, the men of Gondor would fight to the very last.


	8. United Once More

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Behind Stone Doors

By The Last Evenstar

****

A/N: In an effort to make up for my recent untimely update, I worked extra hard to get this one here fast! I suppose this is the second-to-last chapter *sob*, but I will try make it EXTRA long – or at least very action-packed. 

****

Chapter Eight: United Once More

The men of Gondor shifted uneasily as they waited. Aragorn had sent out another small group of scouts, and no one had returned. The force approaching from the East appeared to be formidable.

Aragorn sat on his horse, head held high. Yet inside, his courage was failing. _How could I have let this happen? I promised a reign of peace and prosperity. And now the last army of Gondor rides out to meet a legion yet unreckoned. Where did this enemy come from? A better King would have known . . ._

Faramir rode up on his sand-colored stallion and put on a brave, reckless grin. "Do not lose heart, my King! The battle is never decided until it is over!"

Aragorn smiled at his Steward, a thousand times grateful for the man's spirits. "You're right, Faramir. And a battle is never over until it is fought!" With that, he gave a mighty cry and spurred Nimrodel forward. With equal enthusiasm his men arose and rode onward over the crest of the hill.

And there they stopped short.

Aragorn blinked his eyes to make sure they were working right. He heard Faramir swear in astonishment. Beregond gaped, his mouth open, as they surveyed the approaching army.

The scout had said they numbered five thousand. Aragorn could see that there were clearly more. The men, untried and fresh for battle, rode atop gleaming white horses. The call of their horns rode on the wind, clear and pure.

Leading the legion of Rohirrm were Legolas and Gimli, grinning proudly atop a slender brown mare.

"Hail!" The Elf's cry rang out, unmistakable, in the silence. "What news?"

Aragorn finally found his voice and turned to Beregond accusingly. "You said they were enemies!"

Beregond was just as astonished. "The scout died before he could tell us truly, but I assumed, because he was attacked –"

Eomer rode forward, a triumphant grin on his face. "You didn't think we'd miss the fun, did you?"

"It will be a cold day in Mount Doom before a dwarf skips out on battle!" roared Gimli.

All of a sudden Aragorn broke into a grin. "Hail, my friends! Forgive us your sorry welcome!" He paused, confused. "Why did you come?" he asked Eomer. "How did you know of our need?"

The King of the Riddermark smiled knowingly. "Your chief advisor contacted us four days ago. We had the men ready to march, so it was not long in the coming."

"But – but how did he know?"

Eomer shrugged. "He said that the Lady Arwen left with much haste, and he feared she had gotten news that something was dreadfully wrong."

"LEFT?" roared Aragorn, his heart suddenly pounding out a symphony. "What do you mean, LEFT? Where is she? Is she not safe in Minas Tirith?"

Eomer gulped. "I don't know. He said she rode out of Minas Tirith in great haste two days ago."

"WHAT?" Aragorn felt faint. He remembered the dream in which he had been warned of the armies at Ithilien. _I never asked how she knew, _he realized. _What could have happened? How can I ride into battle now, with no news of her whereabouts?_

He noticed that he was trembling violently. Faramir and his brother-in-law stared with concern. And suddenly, it all came together. "Éowyn." _She mentioned Éowyn. I didn't tell Faramir because I assumed that Éowyn had been foolhardy enough to ride off alone. I never dreamed that Arwen would have gone after her – _"Of course. Arwen would have gotten your letter, Faramir. She left to stop Éowyn." His eyes began to fill with tears. "She always puts other before herself. That's what I love about her. And now –" he turned toward Ithilien with fury, "now she's in trouble." He remembered how she had said goodbye. A red-hot fury coursed through his veins. "If anyone has so much as harmed a hair on her head –"

"Calm down," Faramir interjected nervously. "I'm sure they've managed. They're very capable women." 

But Aragorn could see his distress in the news. Meanwhile, Eomer turned pale and advanced angrily on Faramir.

"You! You said you'd keep her safe when I agreed you could marry her!"

If the situation had been any less grave, Aragorn would have laughed. Instead, he turned his horse around and shouted to his men, "Make haste! We ride to reclaim Ithilien!"

Arwen bit her lip as the sound of horses thundering past filled her ears. She turned to Éowyn, who poked her head out of the cave nervously. 

Suddenly, the girl screamed in delight and toppled to the floor. She sat up, her eyes a daze. "The Rohirrm! They've come! Oh, I knew they would!"

Arwen laughed at her delight. "How wonderful! Now they outnumber the enemy by at least a thousand!"

Suddenly, Éowyn grabbed her sword and belt. "I'm going with them."

Arwen gulped and tried to face her calmly. "You are not."

The shieldmaiden glared. "You may be Queen of Gondor, but you have no power over me! I'm going to fight for my country!" She began to tug on a chain-mail tunic. "Faramir is a powerful fighter, but he needs someone to watch his back!"

Arwen rolled her eyes as she realized what this was really about. But Éowyn's words carried a heavy impact. Aragorn no longer had the protection of her standard. And after all this, she was not willing to take any risks on his safety. "I'll tell you what we'll do. Go strip the dead outside of all their arrows. We ride as a company to Ithilien."

Éowyn looked shocked. "But – you can't! What about your baby?"

Arwen smiled with a devilry usually reserved for her brothers. "We're doing this together, or not at all! And I have a feeling that the Valar will be on our side."

_This is it. _Aragorn surveyed the scene. The Southerners had not had much time to fortify Ithilien. Instead, they rode out to meet the combined forces of Gondor and Rohan on the fields of battle. He knew not to overestimate himself, but Aragorn could still feel the relief of a battle he knew they could win.

"Charge!" he cried, rushing into the foray. In a moment the familiar sensation of battle was upon him. The sound of metal on metal, the agonizing cries as someone went down – Aragorn shuddered to think of how accustomed he was to it. 

An enemy advanced on him, and Aragorn wasted no time in driving Anduril straight through his heart. He smiled as he remembered how, after the last small skirmish at Osgiliath, Arwen had come out and blessed and prayed for all of the bodies, even the enemy, because "they all had a home, and a family, and once upon a time each one was a little boy whose mother held him and told him he was the best, brightest child ever. And when he doesn't come home, she'll cry for her brave little boy, and her life will be unhappy for the rest of her days." 

Arwen! It pained his heart to think of her now, knowing that her safety was uncertain. Everything he loved about her was rushing into his mind from that small memory.

The first rule of battle was not to get distracted. Aragorn had done so, and now a heavy Southerner was about bring a double-bladed axe crashing into his skull. He tried to dart out of the way, but it was too late. The axe fell –

And landed several feet short of the crouching King. His attacker fell to the ground, and arrow in his back. Aragorn stared; it was a southern arrow, not one of Gondor's. Shrugging, he turned back to the battle with renewed energy.

Foe after foe fell at the helm of his mighty sword. As each man went down he saw the face of his queen, and spurred his strength on the next enemy.

Twice more he was saved just in the nick of time by the strange enemy arrows. _Could it be a coincidence? _he wondered. _Are they really just missing me and hitting my foes by chance?_

Arwen let loose arrow after arrow. Her keen Elven eyes found their targets and with remarkable precision she struck each one. The Southern arrows Éowyn had taken from the dead were heavier than the Elven ones she was used to, but the sharp steel at their tips made up for the extra weight. 

Éowyn had long since abandoned her futile attempt at archery and had run off into the heart of battle. Arwen was forced to concentrate on her as well Aragorn. The girl was a good fighter, but three years of rest had left her reflexes a bit rusty.

It was not so for Aragorn, however. He moved with perfectly timed precision, thrusting and lunging in endless patterns of attack. His arm muscles bulged, and sweat gleamed on his brow. Arwen found it hard to concentrate on the battle when this happened.

"My Lady!" One of Éowyn's companions pointed over the hillside. "They're coming up, Your Highness! They've seen us!"

Arwen gave a silent prayer and drew her sword. She was no fool; if the slightest danger appeared to threaten her unborn child she was ready to run. But the men charging up the hill we tired and angry – a poor mood for fighting.

She thrust with the curved blade, taking down one of the enemies immediately. The men from Éowyn's escort managed the other three. Arwen looked around to see if there were any more, and found herself face-to-face with a huge axe. She ducked instinctively, and it went flying over her head.

She went to run, but the man caught her with the butt of his axe and she went flying headfirst into a nearby rock. Through the blood in her eyes she saw him advance on her, and reached for her sword. To her horror, it had flown out of her hand and landed twenty feet away.


	9. The Last Chapter

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Behind Stone Doors

By The Last Evenstar

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A/N: Oh my god! The last chapter! Well, I just want to say that it's been great, really fun, writing this story, and I would never have continued it for so long without the support of all the wonderful people who reviewed. Each alert in my inbox was its own little freak-out, as if to say "Oh, wow! Somebody actually reviewed MY story!" I think that out of everything I've written, this has been the most fun – and not only because it got the most reviews. But unfortunately, all good things must end.

Ai! I just reread that to myself and it sounded like a speech or something. Well, in that case, I'd like to thank:

Dictionary - I'm not angry! I was joking! Anyway, I'm glad you like - a chapter just isn't a chapter without a cliffhanger, don't you agree?

tony - And here it is.

Raquel - No cliffhanger this time! But . . *sob* . . . it's the end!

Mercury Gray - Thank you for your suggestion! I love suggestions! Unfortunatly, I had already written this chapter when I got it!

Anamaria Elentari - Woo-hoo! We all know what would happen if someone let YOU loose in the middle of a battle . . .

Emerald Phoenix2 - Your wish is my command.

mata - Girls kick ass! Cliffhangers ARE mean. So am I.

Cerridwen-Evereven - As always, you give the nicest reviews! Yes, my character Essie IS a ballerina! That's so cool that your theater did it to - it's a fantastic play!

b-witched83uk - I always thought that the parallels between Luthien and Arwen would be interesting to explore. I'm glad you liked it.

maggie black - Is this soon enough for you?

Queen Arwen - No Kleenex required! Unless it's HAPPY Kleenex, which I needed during Aragorn's coronation in _RotK._

Kekelina - Wow! Thank you so much. I tried to update very quickly!

sayinjin7 - Thanks! I do my best in terms of speed!

tars - Yay! I rock! You don't know how special that makes me feel . . .

prettiest in pink - I'm glad. I loved writing it!

The Converted - Indeed they will. Congratulations on getting your license! I'm so jealous!

Gionareth - A reaction like yours is what makes a writer keep writing . . .

AND NOW! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! CHILDREN OF ALL AGES!

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Chapter Nine: The Last Chapter

It was in the midst of a pivotal moment that he saw her. He was taking on two men at once – a dangerous maneuver, but nothing uncertain to a war veteran like himself. They charged him, both at once, and he'd had to dive to the ground in order to avoid decapitation. As he reached up and ran Anduril through the first heart, he saw the other foe fall, and arrow landing in his back with a firm twang. Determined to solve this mystery, he traced quickly with his eyes that path of the arrow.

A brown-haired maiden stood atop a rocky incline above the battle scene. She held a fine Elven longbow and wore a chain-mail tunic. 

Even from a hundred feet away he knew his beloved.

_Why is she here? _Even as he reached to parry a strike, his eyes remained on Arwen. _She could get hurt! _

Fear propelled him like adrenaline. Man after man went down as he worked his way towards her. To his horror, a band of five Southerners had gotten there first.

He ran at top speed. But there was no way he could make it in time. He saw Arwen draw her blade and kill one of the men in a swift blow. 

He cried out as one approached her from behind with an axe. He reached the edge of the incline and began to run. From the height he could see most of the battle, and the outcome was good. The combined forces had taken almost all of the enemy.

As Arwen cried out in pain, his head snapped up and he saw that he was too late.

Arwen closed her eyes and prayed. _Oh, Valar, let Luthien's grace have not been in vain!_

Just as the axe should have fallen on her head, she heard the scraping clash of metal on metal. She fought to open her eyes and saw Aragorn, attacking the man with a fury that distorted his handsome features almost out of recognition.

Her head throbbed and blood poured into her eyes. She wiped it away and struggled to sit up. She soon abandoned the attempt; her entire body ached from the force at which she had hit the rock. She gasped and remembered the baby she carried. _Oh, let him be all right!_

Through blurry vision she saw her husband strike her attacker again and again. By now the man's axe lay futilely on the ground, and Aragorn seemed discontent just to kill the man; instead, he stabbed the villain again and again in his rage.

"Stop!" she cried shrilly, her own voice sounding forced and anguished. Aragorn looked up, the relief palpable in his eyes, and kicked the wretched man aside. He ran over to her and before she knew what was happening she was in his arms, kissing him with all the passion of the trials and tribulations of the past few days.

He drew her into an embrace and squeezed her so tightly she had to gasp for breath. "I'm never letting you out of my sight again," he whispered fiercely in her ear. "You're just as bad as Éowyn."

She laughed, hysterical out of pure relief. "Oh, meltha, I was so scared for you!" She felt tears on her cheeks as he kissed her again. "You have no idea what's happened in the course of two days."

He held her softly. "You scared me, Arwen. I had no idea what fear was until I saw that man attack you." His arms tightened around her. "I would rather face again all the armies of Mordor than see you in danger, meleth nin."

The attacker in question groaned wretchedly. His body was a mangled mess, and it hurt Arwen to look at it. "Kill him," she ordered Aragorn.

He glared at the man with unquestionable venom. "I would rather see him suffer." She opened her mouth, but he shook his head. "If he ever had a family, Arwen, they would have disowned him long ago. What kind of evil man attacks a woman –"

"Aragorn!" she interrupted. "I was killing his people." She looked downcast at the thought. "Don't you see? The Ring was destroyed, but in the hearts of these men remained the insatiable greed for its power."

Aragorn shrugged and drew a dagger from his belt. He threw it squarely onto the man's chest. Arwen shuddered and buried her face in his blood-soaked tunic. "There are so many horrors in this world."

Aragorn kissed her softly on the forehead. "Don't think of them, then. Think of beauty, of life –"

"That's right!" Arwen felt tears of joy stream from her eyes. "I forgot!" She smiled up at her husband, laughing happily at the irony of the situation. "You're going to be a father," she said softly.

He looked confused. "I know. Someday." All at once realization registered in his eyes. "You're –"

She nodded happily. "I'm –"

He cut her off with a kiss, throwing his arms around her in a fit of joy.

The return of the Gondorians was a triumphant one. They rode into Minas Tirith amid shouts of happiness and praise. 

The King rode at the front of the procession on the mare called Nimrodel. Beside him rode the Queen, bloody and disheveled but smiling with an unequaled radiance.

The Prince of Ithilien and his wife followed behind then. Éowyn had broken an arm and was seated disgruntledly on her husband's horse. Right in stride rode the King of Rohan, every now and then shooting venomous looks at the gulping Steward.

Legolas and Gimli rode proudly behind them, bearing the white banner that had survived so many battles. And behind them, the heroes of the war marched, their heads held high.

The King stopped to address his people. "A battle," he said, "can be won in any number of ways. Brute force, sheer perseverance, all of these can amount to victory. But a great battle, a true triumph, will only occur when there is great loss at stake. Countries will do battle against each other, but a great battle will be done only against evil. Forces will come together against those that seek power and destruction. The only way to win a truly great battle is with the aid of our friends." He smiled briefly at Eomer, who nodded and returned to glaring at Faramir. "Yesterday a great battle was fought. Not because there was antagonism, or because there was thirst. But because there was danger, the men of Gondor and Rohan fought to protect us, and in doing so secured the last step in reaching our goal: worldwide peace."

The congregation went up in cheers. People surrounded the soldiers, welcoming them with fervent relief.

The King and Queen strayed off, and watched their people from a distance. "It is over," murmured Aragorn. "The last battle." He turned to smile at his wife. "And now that you are safe behind the stone doors of Minas Tirith, I'll be posting a full-time guard to make sure you stay there."

She laughed musically. "I doubt you'll need it."

He smiled down at her, happiness radiating from his handsome features. "I love you, Evenstar," he whispered. "I'm glad you're safe."

She rubbed her stomach. "So am I."

He gazed at it affectionately. "I'm really going to be a father, then?"

She grinned. "And I'll be a mother. I hope I'm ready."

He raised his eyebrows. "Arwen, meleth nin, you'll be a PERFECT mother. Our son will be the lucked boy in the world." In a decisive action, he swept her off her feet and into his arms. "And you'll need plenty of rest. No use getting tired."

She shrieked with laughter. "Put me down, you fool!"

He only began to walk into the hall. She sighed in resignation and lay her head against his chest as the stone doors closed behind them.


End file.
